ff: ''a many splendoured thing', update pg. 102 - Page 13

heer worried the corner of her lip as she looked over her closet. gayatri's invitation had said that it was a casual dinner, with ''..the boys, harman's girlfriend and a couple of others.'' she had been around the junejas enough to know what was casual with them. but she wasn't sure about nandita. everytime heer had met her at the brownstone, either when she dropped by so that she and harman could go out together, or when she stayed for dinner there, nandita had always been sharply dressed, diamonds discretely twinkling in her ears, feet in tidy long-heeled pumps, not a hair out of place on her neatly combed hair, an epitome of old wealth and grace. heer had been through enough social events to know that it was easier dealing with people in groups if you could blend. they noticed you less that way. and with all the attention that her paintings got, heer preferred not to be noticed.

there was another reason she did not want to look out of place today. regardless of what prem had said that day, gayatri juneja had been different since then. she was not cold -- heer didn't think that gayatri even knew what it meant to be cold. but she could feel a distance everytime she met gayatri. there was a reserve now when they talked. and sometimes there was a troubled look in gayatri's eyes when they rested on her. heer wanted very badly to ask her outright what had gone wrong, but she wasn't sure that she had the right any more.

her fingers were absent-mindedly running over the hanging fabrics when suddenly she felt the texture of embroidery on cloth, and paused. her favourite white churidar kameez. something that meher had selected for her for the first showing of her paintings in los angeles. that had been such a big day, and meher had been so proud of her sister. heer lifted the heavy outfit out, and for a moment, held it close, feeling the pure joy of who her sister had been.

when jaunita showed her into the living room with it's load of chattering people, she knew she had selected well. gayatri, looking elegant in a sari, came to greet her with a look of pleased surprise and... pride. ''heer, you look gorgeous, darling.'' she said, as she gathered heer into her arms. she held her close in a hug that felt fierce and tight.

when she drew back, heer could see a glint of tears in gayatri's eyes. at heer's questionning look, gayatri's lips trembled into a smile, her arms still around the young girl. there was such an air of innocence and tragedy in that regal young figure, she thought to herself. how could anyone resist feeling for her? how could anyone resist starting to love her?

her hand went up to heer's cheek, gently moving the hair that was looping down her cheek off the loose knot that heer had chosen to wear her hair in that evening. as she tucked the thick wave behind heer's ear, she said softly, ''i am sorry for the last few days, darling.'' she shook her head at the startled look in heer's eyes. ''i know that i've been ... my mood has been ... '' gayatri searched for the words.

before she could continue, heer had taken her hands in hers, pressing them tightly. ''please don't. i am the one who should be sorry.'' it was gayatri's turn to look surprised. ''i have taken so much from you that i don't know how to thank you for. maybe one day, i'll be able to.'' they looked at each other, the girl and the mother. they understood each other perfectly in that moment, even though they would be hard put to explain how.

suddenly, gayatri smiled at heer, with all the warmth that she had been unconsciously withholding earlier. ''shall we declare a truce?'' she asked, holding out her hand. heer twinkled as she returned the shake, saying, ''i didn't know we were at war.''

''a war?'' came a deep voice from close behind them, startling heer into taking a step back. she closed her eyes briefly as she felt hands steadying her, holding her waist. familiar hands. she stepped away as soon as she politely could, heart beating faster, and turned to include prem who had just walked in, a bunch of white magnolias wrapped in paper, tucked under his arm. ''who's fighting this time?''

gayatri laughed. ''prem! you are finally here. no, there is no fight that you have to settle this time, darling. i was just beginning to explain why ''declaration of a truce'' is so famous in our family. as you may have noticed, heer,'' she said, turning back to heer, who had just recovered her composure, ''our family is full of extremely opinionated people.''

she laughed again, as heer eyes immediately went to preet, who was chatting with someone on the sofa at the other end of the room. ''yes, and this set doesn't even include my hard-hitting husband who would never let an opportunity go to prove a point to his children -- even when they were kids.'' the smile on her face had turned tender as she though of her husband, drawing heer's fascinated stare.

''there were always so many arguments, all of which had a tendency to get rapidly explosive. the only reason that we went to sleep every night with the roof intact over our heads was because of peacekeeper prem. 'shall we declare a truce?' was his way of entering the argument. he had an uncanny knack of defusing almost all of them. yes, prem,'' she admonished him, laughing, as he protested with a look of mock hurt on his face, ''yes, only 'almost all'. even you couldn't defuse the worst of the preet and harman wars, my poor boy. don't you remember the time that they were at each other's throats and you got your arm broken?''

''ma.'' prem's voice was pained. ''i'm truly sorry i didn't arrive earlier. would you please stop raking up my misguided past if i make up with flowers? here -- your beloved tree has been especially flowerful this year. john-uncle thought you might want to have them at the dining table today.''

gayatri exclaimed with pleasure as she took the sweet smelling bunch. ''how lovely. and he's included some buds as well. how thoughtful of him. let me get a jar for these, and i'll be right back. prem, would you introduce heer?'' she paused in the act of turning away.

''darling, these are just the colour of your lovely kurta. would you wear one of these in your hair? it would look so pretty.'' heer was startled -- flowers in her hair?? she was just about to refuse, when she saw the hint of contrite hopefulness in gayatri's eyes. she remembered ''the truce'' that she had so lovingly offered a while ago. gayatri was still apologising -- how could she refuse?

heer smiled and silently held out her hand, earning a beam on gayatri's face. ''good child. here... no, wait. let prem tuck it in for you.'' heer's eyes went wide. no... but it was too late. gayatri had pulled out a half-opened blossom, and placed it in prem's hand. she tilted her head to one side as she examined heer critically. ''hmmm. the left side, i think, prem.'' gifting them one last smile as she walked away.

heer turned hurridly to prem. ''it's okay, i'll just...''

prem was contemplating the flower in his hand. ''yes, i agree with you.'' he said, scrutinising her rapidly reddening face, looking uncannily like gayatri, ''i think it should've gone on the right side too. but ma's the boss today. so i think...''

he moved behind her, close enough for her to feel his warmth, and heer's breath went shallow as she felt his fingers in her hair. she felt him gently separating strands above the knot she had pulled her hair into, held together with a pearl-tipped pin. she felt the stem of the flower pushing past her neck, and his fingers following it.

heer wondered whether it was natural to feel so much heat from someone's hands. was he an unusually hot-blooded person? did all people feel like this? did all men? she could feel those hands along the side of her ear, her neck, in her hair. she concentrated on not letting her eyelids drop under their own weight. she concentrated on not letting her head fall back on her neck to rest it against his chest. she concentrated on not turning her cheek into the hand that she could feel moving her hair behind her ear.

prem thought that her skin was as soft as the petals of the magnolia, and concentrated on not following his first impulse to stroke the soft petals down the side of her neck. he concentrated on not pressing his lips to that skin. he concentrated on not taking out the pin that held that dense mass of midnight dark hair and watching it tumble, flower and all, down her back, left bare by the dress. he concentrated on not losing his concentration.

in a corner of their mind, each wondered to themselves why self-control was such a problem, all of a sudden.